Mist
by IOSirus
Summary: One shot, literally. Death consumes all.


_"Please… "_

The last thing he heard.

How was he supposed to know his best friend became his worst nightmare? Yet there stood Gabe, Jack's former friend, clad in black attire with a bone-white mask covering his face.

No longer did Gabe respond to his old name.

His new one: Reaper.

Yet Jack had no idea as to why Gabe would change so much. Was it a Talon mind-wipe? Was he being blackmailed? All these questions now surfacing as the connections were made. If only they were sooner. Maybe Jack could have helped, maybe Mercy could have healed Gabe, maybe Overwatch would have stayed together, and no one had to die. Yet these questions came too late, much too late.

The attack caught Jack completely off guard. Both he and Angela were out at a cafe, reminiscing about the old days, catching up on the five years that passed between them, when a black mist began creeping up, pooling around the ankles of the unwary cafe patrons.

Suddenly, a figure formed from the mist. The remaining mist swirled about him, giving off an ominous energy. From his hooded coat, the figure pulled dual shotguns, leveled them at the cafe-goers, and began his attack. Reaching all directions, no one was safe, including both Jack and Angela.

The figures dance of death ended just as quickly as it begun. The cafe was a horrific mess. Blood covered the walls; on the floor it began to form puddles. Bodies slumped over each other, chairs and tables overturned as some patrons madly scrambled to get away. Unfortunately, all their effort was ultimately a waste. Either dead or mortally wounded, no one escaped the attack.

Throwing his shotguns to the side, the figure looked over his latest work. Had the mask not concealed his face, one could see a malicious grin spreading across his lips. Turning to face his target, the figure began to make his way over to where Jack and Angela lay.

"The great Jack Morrison, Overwatch's poster-child. Now look at yourself, all those years of military training couldn't save you from a little retribution."

Coughing up blood, Jack could hardly reply, "W-*cough*-what *cough cough* do you wan-*cough cough*-nt?"

"Well isn't it obvious, I've come here to kill you. You and Angela."

Gritting his teeth through the pain, the voice sounded familiar. He recognized it, but he couldn't place a name. "If your deal is with me, just kill me. Leave Angela out of this."

"I'd say you're in no position to bargain, so let me tell you what's going to happen 'old friend', I'm going to kill you, kill Angela, then the rest of Overwatch."

"Old friend", the words rung in his ears. Where has he heard that voice? Who was it? Suddenly, the truth hit him.

The figure began to stand up, and reached into his coat once more. Jack spoke, and the figure froze for a second.

"Gabe?"

The figure punched his shotgun into Jack's bloodied chest.

"Gabriel Reyes is dead! I've replaced him. I am the Reaper."

Jacks cry of pain brought Angela back to consciousness. Looking up, what she saw horrified her. Next to her, Jack was propped up on by a table, a figure towering over him with a shotgun pressed up against Jack's chest.

Dragging herself over to Jack, Angela pushed the shotgun off Jack's chest, and draped herself over Jack to protect him. When she spoke, it was a hoarse whisper, fear clinging to every word she said.

"Please, don't do this! There has been too much bloodshed! Please don't…"

"I'm afraid I'm going to be disobeying doctors orders. At least you'll make this efficient, I won't have to waste another shell."

Lowering her head, her forehead touched Jack's, and she began to cry. Her warm tears fell onto his face. His own eyes began to water.

Lowering his weapon, the Reaper placed the muzzle of the gun against the back of Angela's head.

Through her sobs, Jack could barely make understand what she said.

"Please don't… Please… Please…"

 _"Please…"_

One last shot rang out against the agonizing silence that followed the attack.

Mist beginning to swirl around his boots once more, the Reaper disappeared, off to find his next victim, and in the distance, sirens blared.

* * *

I'd say I write some of my best work when I'm depressed. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
